


lost spring

by TheLittleTrashCat



Series: 31 Days Of Deceitber [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: 700 words of nonsense, Angst, Character Death, Deceit Sanders Has a Different Name, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Sad Ending, aka it happened in the past, but i like it, tbh i only vaguely used the second prompt, this is like almost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21657229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleTrashCat/pseuds/TheLittleTrashCat
Summary: Roman had been Damien's spring.And he was gone.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Series: 31 Days Of Deceitber [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560325
Comments: 10
Kudos: 21





	lost spring

**Author's Note:**

> yeet yeet its deceiber day two and im here with _angst_
> 
> Deceitber Day Two Prompts: **[Hot Cocoa](https://katie-the-noble-fangirl.tumblr.com/post/189201301710/deceitber-prompts), [Warm Scarf](https://loveceit.tumblr.com/post/189303830838/deceitber-prompts)**

Life was a fickle thing.

Human's fought against nature for centuries, creating tools to aid them to their goal of a longer lifespan. Always longing for just a little more time. Life moved fast for those who sought to obtain something, and the same could be said about the Kingdom of Sidse and its inhabitants.

Founded by one one Homa Tazeirs, what had started as a small village grew into a large town, and soon a flourishing empire to be put on the map. A collective of highly skilled individuals, who believed that the effort of the individual should be awarded, and the effort of their partners didn't determine what they could do.

The strange equality was an anomaly amongst the other Kingdoms, and though some of them privately scorn their methods, none could deny the power of the army, and their intelligence was nothing to be scoffed at. The most powerful wizards and witches, dragon slayers walking amongst common folk.

Everyone was welcome from all walks of like, and the Sides' firmly believed that as long as you weren't hurting anyone or anything, then what you were doing wasn't wrong. 

Hurt. 

Hurt would be what Damien felt.

It was an indescribable type of pain. Pain that kept him up with sobs at night, clutching the bundle of fabric to his chest and letting the tears slip down.

The scarf would be cold when he woke up, and Damien would remember giving a fond eye roll, adjusting it, feeling the warmth from where it was rested directly against skin.

He tried not to think about it too much, lest he fall into another fit of sobs.

It was unfortunately hard not too, and Damien stared down at the piece of paper lying on the desk before him. His back and shoulders were hunched as he stared down. The back of his eyes burned. His breath was hard to catch. It felt like a weight had dropped into his stomach, and his chest was hollow like someone had cleaned it out like a pumpkin.

Outside, the birds were quiet, all having ceased their morning songs as the snow fell from the sky and they scrambled to find last minute bedding.

They were a bit like people in that way, Damien mused. Both scrambled in the winter for last minute things. 

In a way, Damein would say he was similar to a bird in winter. Scrambling endlessly and searching for something that simply wasn't there.

He was trapped in an eternal winter, with nothing to thaw him. At least, not anymore.

A knock sounded on his door, and then it was heastintaly pushed open, letting out a squeak.

Damien's fists clenched. "What."

"I- I was just bringing in the Hot Chocolate you had requested, Sire," came the stuttering reply. "My apologies if I disturbed yo-"

"Leave it on the nightstand," Damien interrupted. 

"Very well."

There was a small clinking of metal against metal, and then silence. 

"Is that all, Sire?"

"Yes," Damien replied curtly.

There was a pregnant pause. "Are..are you alright, Sire?"

Damien's hands shook. 

"Get out of my room," he ordered lowly.

"My apologies if I overstepped my boundar-"

"Get out!" Damien roared, slamming his hands against his desk and half standing up.

"H-have a good day, Sire," his butler forced out. There was the sound of scurried footsteps, and then his door creaked shut.

There was a long moment of silence, and then Damien broke down sobbing. 

Collapsing in his chair, he shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes, biting down on his lip to hold in the sobs.

Damein moved his hands to caress the fabric in his lap, thumb gently stroking the soft red.

If Damein was an eternal winter, than Romam was his endless spring. Bright, cheerful, and thawing him down enough that he could appreciate the small things, and forget about the war for a moment to relax. 

Roman had been all the bright color in Damien's cold, frigid and dead life. Roman had shown him how to love each and every little moment. 

And now Damien's shining star, his spring, all the color in his life, was gone. 


End file.
